The Only Thing that Matters
by CrimSheep
Summary: Daimaen Sander is just a normal boy. He doesn't like his mom. He gets along great with his father. Oh yeah, and he's also a wizard. And Draco Malfoy's obscure relative.
1. Chapter 1: The Boy

Chapter 1: The Boy

The boy sat in his chair, the glow of the computer screen illuminating his face as the only light in the room. He was about sixteen, with medium-length, dark brown hair, and arresting silver-grey eyes. He stared at what was written on the screen.

"Crap," he muttered under his breath. "Complete crap."

'You know what to do,' a voice said in his mind.

He smirked. He knew indeed what to do. He selected all the text on the screen and hit the Delete key. He took a drink of the soda he kept on his desk and reevaluated his thoughts. He found that he was actually tired. As well he should be; he hadn't slept in days. And tomorrow…

"Shit!" he whispered. Tomorrow was the first day of school in this alien place. And not just any school, oh no. For Daimaen Sander was a wizard. Tomorrow would begin his first of his last two years at school, and for this and (he hoped) the subsequent year, he would be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He wouldn't have minded so much (and really didn't mind as much as he thought he did) if it hadn't been his mother's boyfriend's idea. "In fact," he often told himself, "it would've been better if the little tramp hadn't left my father at all." Daimaen's mother and father were both wizards, but his mother had seen fit to leave his father for a Muggle, whom, as it happened, she had been sleeping with for the last three months of their marriage. That man was also where Daimaen's younger brother had come from.

Daimaen always liked his father better, and still remained in touch with him, but Finn (an ironic name at best, as the man's hair was raven-dark) decided it would be best that the boy remain with his mother for the time being. It was through Finn's father's cousin that they were related to the Malfoys, which could only be seen in Daimaen in the boy's grey eyes and sardonically arrogant demeanor. Oh, and his hatred of Muggles, although he truly had a reason for it instead of just the usual prejudice.

He would sleep, then. Yes, good, abandon his foolish thoughts of writing for a night at least. Or what remained of it, anyway.

So he slept.

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References/Notes:

>> ""...His mother had seen fit to leave his father for a Muggle, whom, as it happened, she had been sleeping with for the last three months of their marriage."" -- I guess my love of the movie/book Secret Window kind of crept into Daimaen's life, hehe. The mother's boyfriend is not named Ted, though. I'm pretty sure he's a Cameron, or maybe Bradley (never Brad). Or, you know, maybe it was Knuckles' family...


	2. Chapter 2: The Train

Chapter 2: The Train

He woke up to his mother screaming for him. 'Wow, what a surprise,' he thought with bitter sarcasm. He quickly dressed, then grabbed all his things together and shoved them into his trunk.

"Now, when we get there, you're going to try and find your cousin," his mother was explaining as he snatched his toast from the toaster and buttered it.

"Second cousin's sister-in-law's uncle's grandson," Daimaen muttered, aware that his mother was completely ignoring him.

"He can show you around and all that nice stuff!" she finished resolutely, as chipper as anyone can be. (You'd be surprised at how chipper that is, especially for a woman whose top-of-her-lungs were her son's alarm clock.) Daimaen, however, knew that on the off chance the kid actually spoke to him, the encounter would be…less than pleasant.

Draco Malfoy was notorious for being stubborn, cocky, pompous, arrogant, and rich as hell. His parents were rumored to own at least half of Britain, and a few other countries besides. His father, Lucius Malfoy, had supposedly been a Death Eater in the Dark Times (as Finn called them) and that is where he got all his power. Plus he was said to be big in the British Ministry of Magic. About Draco's mother not much could be said, except that she was exceedingly beautiful and had been Narcissa Black before marriage. The Blacks, who consisted mostly of Death Eaters; criminals; cowards; or some combination of such, were a very wealthy and very discriminatory Pureblood family. Daimaen was pretty sure his mother was some branch off of them, but he could never get her to talk about it (and lately didn't want to).

They went to the station. He found his second cousin's sister-in-law's uncle's grandson. It went much as he thought it would, him confirming the other's identity, the other not speaking to him but to show him how to get on the train, him taking to following the other around behind the other's little group of henchmen. It would've been uneventful, like the most of his life, if he hadn't followed them in that one compartment.

There were three girls and two boys there. One boy was very tall, taller even than Daimaen, and had vibrant red hair, brown eyes, and freckles. The other was much shorter but not really short, and had messy jet black hair and bright green eyes behind glasses; or in other words, the exact description of Harry Potter. Daimaen said nothing. The shortest of the three girls was obviously the tall boy's sister, because she looked just like him. The other two flanked her on the seat like pack hounds.

One had bushy brown hair and an open book in her lap; she had been reading. The other resembled Harry a lot except that her eyes were blue and her equally black hair was neatly straightened.

Some odd conversation ensued that Daimaen did not understand much of; it made him uncomfortable. What he got out of it was that Draco and the girl related to Harry both knew the same thing that no one else seemed to, and the girl didn't want her friends to know about it. So, obviously, Draco mentioned it. Hinted at it, really, since he probably didn't want his own friends (and Daimaen) to know the exact nature of the thing either. Whatever it was, it made Daimaen uncomfortable, and from what he could tell probably everyone else around too. Like when someone tells a sex joke that no one thinks is funny, including the person who told it, but everyone laughs anyway.

So when they left the compartment, Daimaen followed but lagged behind, deciding that he didn't like these people, then dashed into the nearest compartment to find something worse.

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References/Notes:

>> Yes, I made Draco an obscure relative for humor purposes. Laugh.

>> The girl who looks like Harry, a.k.a., Renee Potter, is of my sister's creation. She's not mine, although in later chapters I do kind of adopt her a bit.


	3. Chapter 3: Luna

Ch 3. Luna

Daimaen dashed into the compartment, shut the door, and sat down. Then he looked at whom he was sitting across from. It was a girl, of sorts. She was already in her robes, complete with a blue and silver striped tie (slightly askew), a badge that showed a raven and had a banner reading, "Ravenclaw," her wand stuck behind her ear (upside-down), earrings that strongly resembled live turnips, and a magazine known for its quack stories (this one called, The Quibbler). She was looking at him in a way that made him feel much as he had just moments ago: like she knew something he didn't.

"You're new here," she said, as if it were the most fascinating thing ever.

Daimaen held a small, short internal argument for a second then decided to be nice to the girl. He nodded slowly. "Yeah. I am. That magazine looks interesting."

"My dad's the editor," she said with obvious pride. "Do you want to see it?"

"Sure." He flipped through it, putting on what he hoped was an interested face, and saw some titles that actually did look interesting---not necessarily true, but certainly interesting. Things like, "Minister of Magic Sacks House-elf for 'Too Chocolate' Pudding," (as if he even had a house-elf) or, "Hogwarts' Giant Squid Eats Eighth of Forrest". "There's a giant squid at Hogwarts?" Daimaen asked.

"Oh yes," she said eagerly, then looked a little bit dejected as she continued, "Sometimes people don't believe the things I say, but everyone's seen the squid."

"Cool." Daimaen assessed this surreal girl carefully, then found the whole thing laughable. She wasn't dangerous, not even a bit. Well, at least not outwardly. He smiled and handed the magazine back. "I'm Daimaen Sander, by the way."

The girl smiled back as she took it. "I'm---"

She was cut off when a tall (ish) boy opened the compartment door. "Luna, have you seen Trevor? I've lost him again."

She shook her head sadly. The boy eyed Daimaen suspiciously. Daimaen jumped up and offered his hand. "Daimaen. Sander. Hi." The other boy took it with as much suspicion as he had previously eyed Daimaen with. "Neville Longbottom. Oh, and have you seen a toad? I've lost mine. Again… Hey, you'd better change into your robes soon." This was when Daimaen realized first that the Neville boy had his robes on, and second that it was very dark outside and pouring rain.

"You know, I was just about to do that. Yeah, and if I see your toad, Trevor was his name? If I see Trevor I'll be sure and bring him to you." With that, Daimaen exited the compartment. 'Scary as hell, these people, but oddly refreshing. Much better than Mother, at any rate.'

He changed quickly, after he remembered where exactly he'd left his stuff. He did not see Trevor. Soon after, Daimaen saw a darker outline through the window of the (mercifully) empty compartment he had found. "There it is," he smiled. There it was indeed. Hogwarts Castle.

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References/Notes:

>> I know those are really lame magazine articles. Sorry.


	4. Chapter 4: The Sorting

Ch 4. The Sorting

Hogwarts Castle. Even in the dark and gloom, one may have said, it was glorious. Upon seeing it, Daimaen Sander thought up something so poetically off-kilter that he had to write it down. He fished his back pocket for the small spiral-bound Memo pad he always kept there, with its little pencil shoved in the spiral. He wrote (in awkwardly good penmanship for a sixteen-year-old male), "dark and glorious splendor such as the hand of man had never wrought before." It was only a snippet, but that was his way of testing himself. He would take little snippets like that and fashion stories around them. If he were truly a writer, he thought, he could make anything into a story. Sometimes his notes in the little notebook would be less than snippets (if such were possible); sometimes they would be solitary words. These were not intended for his tests, more usually they were names, or words he figured he could fashion as names. He was, as he told himself, a writer.

Then the train stopped. He fell in with the others until he heard a voice saying, "Transferred students, this way!" There was another yelling, "Firs' years this way!" but Daimaen figured that definitely wasn't the one he was suppose**d** to follow. So he fell in the other line with all the other transferred students. There was a surprising amount. He hadn't expected so many.

They were led into a small hall. Beyond the doors they faced, one could hear the bustle of hungry teenagers. A very short wizard with a very tall, very pointy hat approached them. He seemed to bubble over with merriment. "Hallo, and welcome to Hogwarts! Now, in just a few moments, you'll be sorted, before the first years, into your houses, which are like student categories. Doing exceptionally well in class will gain your house points, but rule-breaking and misbehaving will lose your house points." He interrupted himself to laugh. "Now, when you are sorted, you will sit at your house's table. After dinner, you will be shown the way to your common rooms, and from there to your dormitories. Oh, I think they're ready to begin! Let's go!"

The room Daimaen walked into seemed ordinary enough, until he chanced to look up. Since he was near the head of the line, by where the short wizard was walking, he asked him about it. "Oh, it's just bewitched to look like the sky. Very beautiful at sunset."

Odd, but whatever.

Then he saw/heard the Hat, which he immediately jokingly nicknamed Mr. Hat. It started singing. It was like an explosion of noise. Everything grew quiet in that split second before it started. Daimaen didn't quite grasp the concept of the song of the stupid thing. Something about some dimwit founders and brave, kind, clever, and cunning was all he picked out of it. His ears were joyous when it ceased.

A tall (ish) old (ish) witch read names off a scroll. He would be near the end, he knew. Stupid alphabetical order. It finally got around to his turn to be sorted. He felt like a dork, up in front of everyone with that dumb hat on his head. Moreover, it talked inside his head. It told him of himself. "Hmm... What have we here? An eager mind, I see... Creativity aplenty... Independent, that's obvious, and a quick learner, too." The Hat laughed then, a mere chuckle. "A typical Sander, aren't you? Ah well then, how about SLYTHERIN!" This last word it shouted so everyone could hear, so loud Daimaen thought his ears would bleed.

The first thing he saw at the table was his second cousin's sister-in-law's uncle's grandson's head. The first thing he thought at the table was, 'Aw, shit.' The second thing happened to be, 'Wait, I get a snake thingy on my robes, right? Cool!' Daimaen Sander was, at times, very immature. He was only sixteen, after all.

Draco came over to him, arrogant as ever. "Congrats on making Slytherin, cousin."

"Sure," said Daimaen. He noticed a little shiny badge on Draco's robes with a letter "P" on it and pointed it out (literally). "What's that?"

"My Prefect's badge."

"Oh. What's it mean?"

"That I can boss everybody around."

"Sweet."

Draco made a face. "Nobody says that here."

"That's nice." Daimaen wasn't trying to be an ass, it just happened. He was truly generally disinterested with their conversation. Then he had a bad idea. He looked Draco in the face and said, "Maybe if my slut of a mother hadn't run off with a Muggle and carried me with her, I wouldn't either. As it is, she did, and I do, and not a damn thing on earth can change it." Then he smiled at Draco and said, "I'm tired, where's our rooms?"

Draco was obviously not pleased with that at all. For a second Daimaen thought the kid might actually try to hit him (try being the operative word). Then he walked away. A few minutes later, an oddly chipper (for Slytherins, Daimaen learned) girl, also wearing a Prefect's badge, came over to him. She wore heavy black eyeliner and had spike studs in her ears. Daimaen could tell on sight that she did such things because other people liked it, not particularly, because she herself did. He'd gone through that phase once. Worst three weeks of his life. The girl said, "Um, Draco said I was to show you to our dorms and stuff."

Daimaen looked at her blankly for a second before saying, "Oh. Okay." and getting up to follow her.

He slept restlessly that night, but better than the previous one.

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References/Notes:

>> If you couldn't tell, the short wizard who ushers them into the Great Hall is Flitwick.

>> I love South Park. Apparently, Daimaen does too.


	5. Chapter 5: The Classes

Ch 5. The Classes

The sun shining on his face woke Daimaen. Or maybe it was the loudness of all the boys around him. He couldn't really tell. He sat up lazily, and some kid he didn't know said, "Come on! Breakfast! And you'll need a schedule."

"I sure hope breakfast is better than dinner…" Daimaen muttered to no one in particular. He got up and dressed, annoyed at the extra layer of clothing he had to wear and not looking forward to the rest of the day with Draco and a ton of other people he didn't know.

He made his way sluggishly down to the Great Hall, mostly following other people. He recognized a few of the things he had passed the night before, though.

Daimaen found the same people as last night at his table. He went over to one of them and said, "They said something about schedules?"

"Yeah," said one preppy girl. "Iris Greenbough has them."

Daimaen frowned. "Who the hell's Iris Greenbough? I don't know anybody here."

The girl, looking annoyed, pointed to a tall (ish) bitchy looking girl with brown hair at the Gryffindor table. "Thank you," Daimaen muttered in an effort to be polite, and walked toward Iris.

Iris wore the usual Gryffindor attire, plus a little badge that resembled Draco's excepting that it said "HG" instead of "P." "Schedule?" she said curtly before Daimaen could speak. She looked and sounded like a bitch, so Daimaen was very obliging to be curt right back.

"Well, obviously," he said. "I mean, if I needed something else I could just ask people I actually know. As is, I only need the schedule." He saw that the schedules were arranged in order of House. "Slytherin, by the way."

Iris handed him a schedule odiously and said, "You might want to watch your tongue if you don't want to loose your House points."

He took it, smirking, and said, "If you really think I care, you're much mistaken. By all rights, I shouldn't even be here." Then, tiring of the silly girl, he walked away. 'Very well handled,' he assured himself honestly. Wouldn't want anyone getting the wrong idea about him.

He took his schedule back to the Slytherin table and looked it over while munching on a piece of buttered toast. All his (and the other sixth year Slytherin's) classes were with the Gryffindors. From everyone else's calls of dismay, this was supposed to be a bad thing. Daimaen guessed (correctly) that this was some stupid rivalry thing. No, not all their classes. They had Charms, whatever that was, with the Ravenclaws. From the sound, it was probably just basic spellwork. He looked at what his other classes actually were. One was called Transfiguration; that was self-explanatory. Potions and Herbology were as well. In fact, most all of his classes were. There was History of Magic, which sounded boring; Defense Against the Dark Arts, equally so; Divination, which sounded useless; and Care of Magical Creatures, equally useless. What in the hell did they actually teach in this school?

He had History of Magic first, then Transfiguration, Divination, and Care of Magical Creatures. He suddenly noticed that everyone else was starting to leave. Moreover, he didn't know where these places were. Daimaen thought for a moment then decided to simply find and follow Draco.

The finding wasn't as simple as he would have liked. It actually took a few moments of true looking. After that, it was easy, though. "Hey, not to sound like a whiney little ass, but I don't know where any of these places are, so if I could just follow you around for a day or two, I'd appreciate it."

His cousin looked at him stubbornly before drawling, "And why should I do anything for you?"

Daimaen had a few options of answer. Option 1: Grabbing Draco by the collar and saying, "Because if you don't, I'll kick your ass," followed by Draco's goons jumping on Daimaen and beating the shit out of him. Option 2: Hugging Draco and saying, "Because I'm family," followed by Draco's goons jumping on Daimaen and beating the shit out of him. Option 3: Saying, "Fine, don't do anything for me," followed by interference by a Gryffindor and Draco's goons jumping on Daimaen and beating the shit out of him just out of spite. Option 4: What Daimaen wound up doing. (Although he would have objected far less to option 1 and probably actually done option 3 except the last repetitions.)

"Well, I was going to say out of the goodness of you're heart, but I'm currently debating if there is such a thing. However, if you don't, I'll write to my father, who'll write to your father, who won't be too pleased to hear about this." He wouldn't really (since he wasn't so dependant on his father and him pummeling Draco was really a more appealing choice), but he was correct in guessing that Draco's fear of his own father would be enough to blackmail him into helping. Thus, it worked.

Daimaen was surprised when the History of Magic teacher turned out to be a ghost, but that was about the most interesting thing in the entire class. He marked on his schedule at the end of class that it was a good one to write in, because a monotone fountain of ideas was sitting right in the front of the room, ignoring everyone.

Transfiguration was no picnic. It was hard, although he had successfully transfigured reptiles the year before in his old school. The teacher was a real bitch, too. She was the same one who had taken five years to get through the names on the stupid scroll the night previous.

Divination was a crackpot class, as he had predicted. The teacher looked like a large ugly bat and spent the entire class period predicting that Harry Potter (a sixth-year Gryffindor, and therefore, in the class) was going to die horribly and soon. 'Bullshit,' thought Daimaen, who was lucky enough to get a seat in the back where he went unnoticed as he worked on his previously assigned Transfiguration essay and just barely paid attention.

Care of Magical Creatures (CoMC) was annoying largely because it had started raining suddenly about an hour previous. Right before it, some girl jumped into the lake, which was amusing to watch but otherwise largely uninteresting. The teacher, while looking very capable of handling large and/or dangerous creatures, seemed completely incapable of actually teaching, about them or otherwise. Mostly he just said (basically, since partial translation is necessary), "I'm the CoMC teacher. I don't have anything planned today because I thought I'd give you a break on your first day back, which turned out to be kind of smart since it's raining." The man took about twenty minutes just to say all of this in his odd garbled speech. It was easy to see he did mean well, but it was equally easy to see that he highly favored the Gryffindors (besides the fact that he must have been at least half-giant, with him standing not less than ten feet tall).

By lunch, Daimaen had the four classes pinned as to what he would do in each of them. In HoM, he'd write. In Transfiguration, he'd do his damnedest to pay attention. In Divination, he'd learn to control his sardonic laughter before it got him noticed by the batty teacher or worse, kicked out of class. And in CoMC, he'd try to decode the giant-man's way of speaking. Luckily, they all had the rest of the day off, since it was their first. Everyone went back to his or her Common Room after lunch. Daimaen didn't really want to make nice with the other Slytherins, but he couldn't remember what the password was…

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References/Notes:

>> "'By all rights, I shouldn't even be here.'" --- Not really from anything, but I walked around saying this the whole day when Ozzfest '06 came to town. I was supposed to go, but my mom dicked me over at the last second. It sucked.

>> "...Who won't be too pleased to hear about this." --- A play off Mean Girls when they're in the office...


	6. Chapter 6: Hermione

Ch 6. Hermione

Daimaen did not like the task in front of him. He did not like it at all. Why? Well, firstly because his cousin was a very unpleasant person. Secondly because his cousin was a very snobby and unpleasant person. Thirdly--you get the idea.

All he really had to do was follow Draco, but he didn't really want to spend any amount of time near the guy. It was annoying, unpleasant, etc. However, it must be done. Thus, he did it.

As it happened, Draco did not go directly back to his common room. This only prolonged Daimaen's agony. The little gang loitered in the halls for as long as they could without becoming bored enough to gouge their own eyes out of their skulls. Daimaen was far past that, into marveling at the talking paintings. On one such occasion, the staircase actually moved on him. After everyone else was already at the top. A bad thing, one might say, but Daimaen was only too sure it was a blessing. He continued merrily up on his way and wondered down a few halls before pronouncing himself lost to an odd painting nearby. He wasn't sure what it was, but he thought it was sleeping.

He studied the strange painting a moment longer, before turning to head in the direction he had been going previously. Then he ran into someone. Literally. Moreover, he knocked them--her--down.

Daimaen held his arm down to help the girl up. "I'm sorry, wasn't paying attention to where I was going, sorry," he muttered. "Clumsy as hell, sor-" He saw and remembered the girl. "I've seen you before."

She looked upset, and he had knocked her book out of her hands as well. He bent down to pick it up. ""Hogwarts, A History" huh? No offense, but I've got to ask: how interesting can that be?"

"You're the new kid in the back of Malfoy's gang," she said bitterly, obviously taking offense.

He laughed a bit. "I didn't mean it to be hateful, it's just I had you pegged as a fiction girl. What's so interesting about the real world?" As almost an afterthought he added, "And I was only with his 'gang,' as you so bitterly put it, because he's my relative. In fact, I just got away from them a while ago."

The girl smiled a little, somewhat reassured, and said, "Sorry, I've just been having a bad day. I didn't mean…" she trailed off.

Daimaen grinned. "Don't be silly. Of course you did. I'm a Slytherin, and you first saw me in what looked like favorable company of a person you plainly dislike. You meant every cutting word of it. But you haven't answered either of my questions."

"Speaking of questions, who, exactly, are you?" the girl inquired.

"Another I was going to ask, but no matter. I'm Daimaen Sander. I would hold out my hand for you to shake, but you haven't let go of it yet." She released it in an instant, as if she had been holding a venomous snake. He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not on fire, you know."

She blushed a little. "I'm sorry, I-"

"You really have got to stop saying that," Daimaen laughed. "It's kind of annoying in repetition. Anyway, you were going to tell me who you are. Right?"

"I'm Hermione Granger," she said, smiling.

He searched his memory banks because he knew he'd heard that name before. He sobered quickly when he realized where. "Granger the Muggle-born?"

She frowned slightly. "Yes. Why?"

He was miles away as he said, "Well I guess you aren't all witless bastards, then."

She looked as if she'd just hallucinated. "What?"

Her wounded tone brought him back from his reflection. He smiled sadly and apologetically. "I'm sorry, it's just… well, bluntly put, Muggles ruined my life." Daimaen shook his head. "No, not totally. My mother had a vast hand in it as well. Or, in this case--But I won't burden you with my problems. You seemed to have a fair amount yourself," he said as a question. When he saw she wasn't going to answer, he said, "Alright, then, one more question that it's really in you best interest to answer: Where in the bloody hell are we?"

"I don't know, exactly…"

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References/Notes:

>> "'But you haven't answered either of my questions.'" --- "In the category of questions not answered..." (Pirates of the Caribbean II) But no. I wrote this long before I'd even seen that. Call it coincidence if you like; I don't believe in them.


	7. Chapter 7: The Battle

Ch 7. The "Battle"

"So we're lost. Perfect." Daimaen looked up and down the corridor then turned the way he had come from. "Well, we won't get anywhere just standing here," he said and began walking the way he had turned. He looked back at Hermione, who was just standing there. "Coming?" he asked. 

"What are you doing?" she said.

Daimaen thought this was an odd question; it was perfectly obvious what he was doing. The he saw that she wasn't looking at him, she was looking past him. 'Trust me not to see somebody right in front of me,' he thought. Surely enough, he turned back around to see the redheaded boy that had been in Hermione's compartment on the train. He was apparently poking a painting with his wand for no reason. He jumped at Hermione's voice, as if he hadn't been expecting her to notice him.

"I was looking for you and—" he stopped, spotting Daimaen's "Slytherin-ness". "Who's he?" the boy asked rudely, pointing at Daimaen with his wand.

"Hi, Daimaen Sander, if you could please point your wand somewhere else?" Daimaen responded quickly and somewhat nervously. His second day here and he was already close to being attacked. This school had serious problems.

The boy growled, "Ron Weasly," but didn't move his wand. "You were with Malfoy on the train."

"Everyone seems to remember that… Unfortunate blood relation, only person I knew. Not my fault," Daimaen answered, then a streak of boldness hit him. "Then again, one could ask you, both of you in fact-" he glanced back at Hermione "—why you were with Harry Potter on the train. But of course, you must be friends with him. Which begs yet another question: why is it that you are both here and he is not?"

Hermione and the boy called Ron exchanged a look that Daimaen, having been cooped up with Muggles and forced (in a general sense) to do Muggle things like watching movies, had seen a great many times before. A look that said the two people had just been shown that Daimaen was not as stupid as they had previously thought. Then Ron said, "That's none of your business."

Daimaen nodded. "No, it probably isn't. Similar to how just because I'm a Slytherin doesn't mean you have to keep your wand pointed at me as if I'm some dangerous criminal. Stop pointing your wand at me like I'm some dangerous criminal."

Ron lowered his wand a little, but not all the way. It looked more like his arm had gotten tired than like someone had just politely asked him to lower it. (Daimaen did not know it, but Ron had been somewhat affected by the words "dangerous criminal", as his friend Harry's godfather was still thought of as such by the Ministry of Magic.)

"Leave him alone Ron, he's not hurting anyone. Why are you down here anyway?" Hermione chimed in, a little too late for Daimaen's liking.

"Looking for you, of course," Ron replied as if it were common knowledge (which it almost was, him having mentioned it just before half-threatening Daimaen). "You kind of ran off after lunch."

"Oh yes, like you had nothing to do with it," she said scathingly.

"I said I didn't mean it, didn't I?" Ron responded.

Daimaen winced. "Ooh, bad move." They both looked at him. "Well you never tell a girl you didn't mean it. That just lets them know you did mean it."

The two still stared at him, then said in unison, "How do you know that?"

Daimaen looked from one to the other. "My parents divorced. I live with my mom. She has a Muggle job in a diner and she doesn't like most of the people she works with. Both my brother and her boyfriend actually have friends, so I'm the one she tells stuff to." He noticed they were still staring at him. "What?"

Ron started laughing and actually let his wand arm drop. Daimaen was getting kind of mad. "What, I'm a freak because my mom's weird? What?"

Ron, still laughing, said (or tried to say), "That's…just…so…funny!"

"What is?" Daimaen almost shouted.

Ron calmed himself a little and said, "You're in Slytherin and your mom has Muggle job?"

"Yeah. And her boyfriend's a Muggle. And my brother. Well, step-brother."

"What about you?"

Daimaen laughed, a sardonically hollow sound. "Me? I just live there, man. Wouldn't if I had a choice in the matter, but I don't. Sadly."

"No, I mean, are you a Pureblood? Because I thought all Slytherins are Pureblood."

"Oh, that. Yeah, I am. Didn't I say I was related to the Malfoys? I don't like the term though. Pureblood," he half-spat. "Sounds like a dog. I like dogs, but I am no dog. Bad term anyway. It severely implies inbreeding, you know." Daimaen laughed suddenly. "I'm getting the impression that this is really weird."

Ron and Hermione both nodded, and Ron said, "It's not every day I have a polite conversation with a Slytherin. Usually they either ignore me or make fun of me."

Daimaen understood completely, having such happen to him a lot in his old school. "I personally think all this house stuff is rubbish. It agitates people, causes animosity. People are mean to each other just because they're in different houses. It's ridiculously stupid. And let me guess, each house has a Quidditch team too, don't they?" Hermione and Ron both nodded again"Yeah, you see? Everyone's always competing and it's not constructive. Instead of moving forward and learning from our differences, we're actually moving backward. It disgusts me," he said bitterly, then added, "Although, Draco's hair disgusts me more. I've been thinking of asking him exactly how many tons of gel he puts in his hair every day."

Ron and Hermione laughed but stopped suddenly. Daimaen closed his eyes for a second and sighed. "He's right behind me isn't he?" They nodded, and Daimaen turned around.

"Sander, you're my cousin, so I'll give you some advice. You wouldn't want to be seen with the likes of these two. A mudblood and a blood-traitor. Didn't you know?" Draco said smugly, apparently ignoring the hair comment.

"I'll decide whom I'll be seen with, thanks, Cousin." Daimaen put a sinister emphasis on this word, then continued with a Malfoy-like smirk, "And how about it? How many tons of gel, exactly?" He watched as Draco started to stamp away like an angsty thirteen-year-old whose Mommy said he couldn't go to his favorite band's concert, then turned back to Ron and Hermione. "He's such a child," he said, then caught Hermione's wide-eyed stare at something over his shoulder. He immediately whipped around, wand out, and shouted, "Protego!"

Daimaen's shield charm effectively reflected Malfoy's mediocre jelly-legs jinx back at him with enough force to knock the pale boy to the floor. Daimaen walked over and looked down at him. "Jelly-legs? Weak, Malfoy. Very weak." He laughed mockingly. "You didn't seriously think you could enforce upon me your stupid rules, did you?" he asked, watching Malfoy's attempts to regain a standing position with an amused look on his face.

"My father—" Malfoy tried to interject, but Daimaen waved the sentence away. "To hell with your father. He's a self-righteous fool who serves an even greater fool who, as it's said, is more snake than man. And he's doubly a fool to think that he's safe. Or that even you are." Draco's eyes shot daggers at Daimaen, but the older boy just laughed. "What, I wasn't supposed to say that? Your pathetic master going to come after me now that I've insulted his lapdogs?" Daimaen looked around in mock-fear. "No? I guess not, then. He doesn't care about you as much as you think, maybe."

Draco, still glaring, replied in a weak tone that wasn't his or hardly more than a hiss, "You'll pay…no one, no one insults me…"

"Going to send your oversized, dinosaur-brained goons after me, are you? Try. My detention will be worth it." Daimaen realized suddenly that Ron and Hermione were whispering to each other. He didn't turn around, but stayed quiet a moment to catch the conversation.

"Ron, we're prefects, we've got to do something!" That was Hermione.

"Come on, you can't pretend it isn't great to see Malfoy getting his ass kicked, and the best thing is, it's a Slytherin, so he can't take points off!"

"Yes, he can, Ron…"

"But he won't. Just let them alone Hermione!"

Daimaen grew uninterested. He muttered the counter-jinx for Malfoy and said in a low tone, "Scram." And, surprisingly, he did. Daimaen then turned his attention to the other near-duel in the hall…

-----------------------------

References/Notes:

>> "...Like I'm some dangerous criminal. Stop pointing your wand at me like I'm some dangerous criminal." --- Kinda from Man of the House (the one with Tommy Lee Jones) when the one girl is lying about where the other one went and he says, "So is picking at you clothes. Stop picking at your clothes..."

>> "You didn't seriously think you could enforce upon me your stupid rules, did you?" --- Somewhat from Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring, Saruman says, "You did not seriously think that a hobbit could contend with the will of Sauron?" (This doesn't happen in the book.)


	8. Chapter 8: The Aftermath

Ch 8. The Aftermath

Daimaen turned back to the other mini-battle occurring in the hall with slight amusement.

"You can't punish him, Hermione, this is the best thing anyone's done to Malfoy since forth year…" Ron said, then got a far-away look in his eyes along with a dreamy grin. "Malfoy the Amazing Bouncing Ferret... I remember like it was yesterday. That was wicked."

"Ron! That was a teacher who did that! Well, technically it wasn't, but it was an adult. This is a student doing something, we can't just stand here and watch-" Hermione was cut off by Daimaen.

"No indeed, especially seeing how you didn't watch at all. Pity. It was awesome. He's gone anyway," he said with splendor.

Ron's mouth hung open. "You ran Malfoy off? You actually ran him off?!"

"What, like it's hard? Yeah, I said 'Scram,' and he scrammed." Daimaen frowned. "Hang on, is that a word?"

Ron was shaking his head in disbelief. "You ran Malfoy off… Hermione, it's official. This bloke is my new hero."

Daimaen grinned. "Sweet."

Ron looked at him funny. "'Sweet'?"

"Yeah, dude, it's like, slang…from America. Means the same as, like, cool, wicked, awesome. 'Sweet.'"

Ron was still looking at him funny. "So… 'Sweet' and 'dude'… Interesting."

Daimaen nodded, "Isn't it, though?" Bells suddenly started going off somewhere not so far away. Daimaen got kind of excited. "Is that dinner?"

Hermione nodded, her first input into the conversation since Daimaen had started speaking, and they all headed down to dinner. Somehow, Ron knew exactly where they were.

In the last several weeks, Daimaen had plunged himself into his studies, with little else to interest him at this place he had quickly come to despise (visits to Hogsmede village were no exception, but he went anyway, for fresh air). His encounters with Ron, and sometimes Hermione, were amusing but unfulfilling. They lacked true friendship, settling for humor instead. Daimaen himself made a habit of trusting no one totally, which probably affected it, and he suspected that Ron did not totally trust him either. Daimaen was surprised to learn that Harry Potter was not often around his "friends", particularly Hermione, and Daimaen often saw Harry talking to the girl who resembled him at breakfast. Daimaen figured she was his cousin, maybe. Not close enough in looks to be his sister, and anyway, everyone knew there was only one Potter child. Daimaen had decided not to concern himself with Harry's comings and goings, and although he remained curious about the Boy Who Lived, he figured his curiosity was not to be satisfied.

Beyond that, there was nothing more interesting than the fact that they had no DADA teacher (that class was turned into a study period). Malfoy had not bothered Daimaen once since being attacked by him, and neither found any reason to talk to the other. Daimaen was somewhat relieved, as what he had done had been a lucky, spur-of-the-moment thing, as he didn't think he could do it again. Plus, Malfoy kept himself surrounded by goons.

It came to Daimaen's attention late in November that he may have made his cousin frightened of him. This thought pleased him so immensely that it took days for that high to wear off. Days, a Hogsmede visit, and something highly unexpected…

--

References/Notes:

"What, like it's hard?" – From Legally Blonde

"It's like slang...from America..." – From Mean Girls, except she says England instead of America

I personally find it hilarious that Ron knows exactly where they are.


End file.
